Monday, 29 October 2012

What, what did I do?


Living with males is such fun.  It’s like a whole other world really.  One that consists of strange odours, empty cupboards, lots of mess, wet towels left in obscure places, smelly socks, footy boots, and cricket whites that now seem to have a strange grey tinge to them.

On the upside though, it is balanced by lots of cuddles.  It’s definitely true about boys and their mums – my eldest gives the best cuddles ever!! 

This morning however, even his cuddles weren’t going to save him.  I should have titled this post “What I Say and What He Hears Part 2 – the child’s version”.  If you read last week’s rant you’d completely understand where I was coming from........it’s clearly a genetic trait that starts at birth.

I say to Master 11 year old “can you please pick up all the clothes off the floor upstairs and put them in the washing basket”.  

He hears ..............................................


After packing lunches, school bags, checking notes, making sure I’ve got everything I need for work, packing the daycare bag, throwing everything into the car except the 2 year old tornado (who at last check was looking like he was contemplating popping the cat in the washing machine), it was a quick dash upstairs only to find what looked like some crazed person had emptied the entire contents of the boys wardrobes, rubbed them in dirt and strewn them across three rooms.

Argh!!!!!!!!  After putting on best screeching voice I can muster in the morning Master 11 saunters in with his usual blank expression and my second favourite phrase “What, what did I do?”

It’s more what you didn’t do buddy!!! 

I wish I could say that I was making this up.  I wish I could say that my boys were growing up as modern, educated men, that will be quite capable of taking care of themselves.  Instead, I've somehow managed to produce a bunch of Neanderthals that can’t even pick a bloody sock up off the floor.

Master 11 continues to look at me with a blank look as if I’m speaking a new-found foreign language.  “But I thought you meant just my room”.  Now I know, they don’t have the capacity to think further than ooh I don’t know, a millisecond, but seriously. 

After a deep breath I then wander into Master 11’s domain.  “Oh, this room?  Is this the room you thought I was talking about?  The one with the clothes ALL OVER THE FLOOR?????  IS THAT THE ROOM YOU THOUGHT I WAS TALKING ABOUT??????”

And there it was – my favourite phrase, the one that really tips me over the edge, the one that makes me want to turn to the vodka at 8am in the morning.......

"What? {insert sibling’s name here}, must have done it”

Yep, of course.  In the 5 minutes since I asked you to pick up all the washing off the floor your 7 year old brother ran upstairs, got hold of the washing basket, managed to only pick out your clothes, throw them all over the floor, run back downstairs just in time for me to head upstairs and go off my nut!!!

Hmmmmmmm - yep, that must be what happened.

HELP ME!!!!

Amanda

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

What I Say and What He Hears


So husband of the year gets home at 7pm last night, about 15min after me.  I’ve already started dinner and the tribe are doing an amazing job of ignoring my requests to do homework, stop fighting, pretty much anything at all I’ve asked them to do since we walked in the front door.

Because it was getting late I thought the smart thing to do would be to get husband of the year to sort the boys out.  Now as we all know husbands don’t have the ability to assess a situation and react.  In other words they aren’t able to think “okay, it’s getting late – my beautiful wife is cooking dinner, I’ll pop upstairs and get the boys showered and organised”.  Oh no, that’s not possible, their brain is simply thinking “mmmmm, beer”, and probably other things we won’t mention here.

As a result, I thought I did a pretty good job of explaining to the hubster what was required.  “Hey, can you pop upstairs and get the boys sorted, get them in the shower etc, while I finish getting dinner ready”




What he obviously heard was “Boys are upstairs, why don’t you ask them to hop in the shower and then grab a beer and piss off outside to stare at the leaves in your swimming pool while the boys then waste 20min worth of water, fight, smear toothpaste all over the carpet, scream, fight some more, and let the whole neighbourhood know a crazy person has moved in next door because all they can hear is me screaming the house down for someone to have a freakin’ shower!!!!!!!!”


Twenty minutes later when said crazy person (that would be me) starts screaming at the husband to get his arse back inside I am faced with a blank stare and words like “What, what have I done?”.  I swear I wanted to smack him across the head.

The fact that he has walked back inside to absolute chaos pretty much guarantees world war 3 is about to break out.  Sure enough husband of the year can be heard screaming at the boys, “what are you doing?  Now I’m in trouble cause you lot weren’t in the shower.  Why are you still dry, have you even had a shower?  Why is there toothpaste all over the floor, blah, blah, blah, blah”  If the neighbours had any doubt about the crazy family next door they don’t any more.

Whilst all this was going on I simply breathed in, breathed out and visualised a large glass of ice cold bubbles, thinking to myself if husband of the year had simply “popped upstairs and sorted the boys out for 10min” all the pain and suffering that followed could have been avoided. 

Again, because sometimes I think his brain literally doesn’t work, he honestly struggled to grasp this concept. Argh!!! I swear I live in a zoo full of monkeys!!!  Help me!!!!  

Amanda 




Monday, 22 October 2012

Who needs doors anyway?


It’s been over a month now since we moved into the new house, which means it’s been over 2 months since husband ran through the house and removed every door in sight.

It’s not that he has some kind of weird phobia about doors, it’s just that they were all old mission brown things and falling apart so they ended up in the skip bin.  Only 1 door has since gone up in it’s place – the door to the bathroom.



Don’t get me wrong – I like open plan as much as the next person, but seriously, no doors....... I kind of like doors.  They come in handy for a number of reasons.

  1. How can I send the 2 year tornado to his room when he just walks right out again?
  2. How do I hide all the mess that I’ve shoved into the spare room when there is no door to hide it all behind?
  3. Fights are no where near as exciting if you can’t be all dramatic, storm off and slam a door!
  4. It’s near impossible to shove everything into the linen cupboard when there is no door to stop everything falling straight back onto the floor again. 
  5. What if I have a sudden desire to hang something on the back of a door – what am I supposed to do then huh?
  6. Where am I supposed to put the funky new door handles I found?
  7. What if I want to lock myself in a room so I can’t hear the boys screaming at each other?
  8. Do I really don’t need to see the toilet seat up everytime I walk past the boy’s bathroom?


I am almost tempted to rings Doors Plus and have them put doors in for me – I say almost because, sorry, can someone please explain how it costs over $200 to put up one door??  Seriously, maybe I should become a door putter-upperer - who wouldn’t want to work for that sort of hourly rate.

So tell me, is it just me?  Do you think doors are an important feature of your house or just a luxury you can do without?  


Thursday, 18 October 2012

No Mum, I Can Do It


How is it that kids manage to go from "Mr Independent" to "Mr I'm Going To Sit On My Lazy Bum and Do Nothing" in the blink of an eye?

I took the 2 year old tornado for a walk this morning (yes, you did just read that correctly, pick yourself up off the floor - I went for a walk)...mainly because he is sick and the constant whinging, whining and crying was enough to turn me towards the alcohol stash and it was only 10am.  I thought a walk was possibly the more responsible course of action.

Anyway, so off we went on our walk which takes us past a playground and the 2 year old tornado decided he was going to have a run around, climb up ladders and slide down slides WITHOUT mum's help thank you very much. 


I remember both his older brothers were exactly the same when they were that age and through those fun filled toddler years.

No, I can put my own shoes on mum.  I don't care if you are late for work, you can stand there while I take 45min to work out if the rabbit goes under the hole or through the hole, I do not need any help!!!



I'm old enough to ride my bike down to the park by myself mum, I don't need you to come with me,

I can pour my own drink mum, it doesn't matter if 3/4 of it ends up on the floor.  I don't need any help.

Oh yes, Mr Independent, but don't ask them to put their toys away, clean up after themselves, put the juice back in the fridge, the cheese wrapper in the bin or remove their shoes from the middle of the lounge room floor.  Oh no, they aren't possibly old enough to do that by themselves.

And whatever you do, don't ask them to pick their washing up off the floor and put in a washing basket less than a foot away - there is no way they are old  enough to manage anything that technical. 

 A girl's gotta dream!!!

Ah yes, "Mr Independent" to "Mr I'm Going To Sit On My Lazy Bum and Do Nothing" in the blink of an eye.  

Anyone else notice this with their kids?

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

It’s all fun and games until someone decides to play cricket.

I was just having a chat with a friend of mine who has recently had a little boy and his beautiful wife is all ready for him to start playing all those fun team sports that kids play, like cricket.

Now with 2 boys of my own who play cricket and a 2.5 year old tornado who wishes he was playing cricket, I feel that I am somewhat of an expert on the matter.

As I started explaining the joys of Saturday mornings spent sitting watching a bunch of boys stand around waiting for something exciting to happen, I realised it all started with bikkies, dip and a beverage.

My boys all started playing Milo cricket on a Friday night the year they started school. Apparently Milo cricket is pretty cool. They get a fab backpack full of goodies, they practice batting, they practise bowling, they run around a bit – it’s all good fun. I say “apparently” because to us parents Milo cricket is actually about sitting around on deck chairs eating bikkies and dip whilst having a quiet beverage. I think I did see one of the boys bowl someone out once but I couldn’t be sure.



Well of course, Milo cricket gave the boys a taste for the game didn’t it. It was a natural progression from there into the cricket whites, floppy hats and Saturday mornings spent bleary eyed whilst waiting for something to happen. To be honest, the first year is actually kind of fun. Watching these kids pick up bats that are bigger than they are and learning to bowl the ball so it actually reaches the batter before he falls asleep is pretty entertaining. Of course, as they get older, it all becomes a bit more serious and before you know it, half your Saturday is gone and you are trying to find out who on earth decided that white was a good colour to play any kind of sport in.

Then the next child goes through the ranks and decides there is no way he is waiting until he’s 9 to play cricket. He can bowl to his big brother and face down one of his fast ones so he’s playing “proper” cricket and that’s that. Can be a little bit tricky when the cricket pads end up around his neck and he looks like he will fall over as soon as puts the helmet on, but hey, he doesn’t seem to mind.

Hmmm, so now it’s each of us off in different directions each Saturday morning amid arguements as to who is taking the tornado with them. With the tornado in tow there is no sitting down quietly enjoying a coffee – unless you want a full scale disaster area on your hand, your morning is spent bowling a plastic ball in the cricket nets to calls of “oh good boy” from said tornado.

So in short, bikkies, dip and a few beverages are all fun and games until someone decides they want to play cricket..............

Amanda

Monday, 8 October 2012

My Baby Is All Grown Up

I wake today to the reality of life.  School holidays are over, it's back to normality.  Uniforms to iron, school lunches to pack, notes to sign, and school bags to check before the mad dash that is school drop off, and day care drop off before joining the chaos that is Sydney peak-hour traffic on my way to work.  Argh!!!




But there's an added hint of sadness this time.  I say added sadness because in all seriousness I actually kinda like school holidays.  Things are a little slower, there's not that mad rush in the mornings, and everything somehow seems calmer.

This time though it's my eldest's last term of pre-school.  Next year he is off to high school, a thought that is honestly filling me with dread.  It seems like only yesterday that my baby was starting his first year of big-school.  How can he possibly now be heading off to his last term of primary school before being thrown out into the big bad world.


I remember my mum saying to me years ago that once the kids start school life really flys by.  I now completely understand.  Everything is done by the school calendar, the school week, the school term.  There's 8 weeks left of term, now there's only 4, ooooh, it's school holidays again........and before I know it another year has flown by.

I am lucky, my "baby" is a mummy's boy - I don't feel like I'm about to lose him to the big bad world, but I still have this immense sadness that he no longer going to be "protected" from the big bad world like his is at primary school.  Hubby and I are now going to lose some of that control we have.  He will have to make his own decisions and learn to survive on his own.  It seriously frightens the life out of me.

As a mum though I have to take a deep breath and put a smile on my face and send him off to school with kisses and cuddles like it was any other day.  I don't want that step into high school to be something he is frightened of which means I have to hide my fear so he doesn't feed off it.


Who else is sending their baby off for their last term of primary school?  How are you coping?

Saturday, 6 October 2012

My New Fave Book

I have a new fave book and I just love it. 

Shhh, but secretly I've always thought it would be kinda cool to be a witch. Don't you think? You know, someone cuts you off in traffic and you wiggle your nose and suddenly they have a flat tyre. Or you are just soooooo tired, there's no inspiration coming forth to help with dinner and presto - a three course meal is suddenly ready to dish up. 


 So my new fave book is called A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness and it's seriously cool. I was a massive fan of the Twilight series (yes, I admit it), and the great thing about my new witchy poo book is it's written more for adults than teenage girls so you don't feel quite so guilty for lying back on the couch for a few hours and immersing yourself in it.




Yes, okay, so I know I should have been doing the washing, the ironing, playing with my children, vacuuming my house, unpacking boxes, doing the grocery shopping......but that's my point......my new book is so much for exciting!!!!! 

 What are you reading right now? Do you feel guilty curling up with a good book and ignoring reality going on around you?

Amanda